


Queen and Lionheart

by ariya167



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Knights - Freeform, Pre-Relationship, Sabédala Week 2020, Sort Of, Swordfighting, also a couple sentences waxing rhapsodic about rabé's biceps, lots of extraneous worldbuilding details
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27100861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariya167/pseuds/ariya167
Summary: The tournament began at dawn, and was thus poorly attended, at least for the first few hours.However, Sabé thought, considering those first few hours consisted only of the qualifying bouts, no one was really missing much.~Sabé, knight-errant, seeks to prove her worth and join the honour guard of Amidala, Queen of Naboo.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Sabé
Kudos: 7





	Queen and Lionheart

The tournament began at dawn, and was thus poorly attended, at least for the first few hours.

However, Sabé thought, considering those first few hours consisted only of the qualifying bouts, no one was really missing much.

She turned her attention back to the current match, examining it with a critical eye. The two competitors were unsworn, freelance knights, one outfitted with a red scarf and the other in blue, for the judges (and the nonexistent audience) to tell them apart. 

Red was the taller of the pair, and with a wider frame, but swung their sword with all too much force, clearly tiring already. Blue, on the other hand, was agile and quick, darting in and out of Red’s guard. Still, they were not always quick enough to escape a hit. 

But Blue prevailed in the end, knocking Red down and holding the edge of their blade to Red’s throat. A pitiful smattering of applause followed, and Sabé readied herself. It was finally her turn on the docket.

“Sabé of Theed, and Malek Mi-Annarc!” the herald boomed, voice amplified by a trumpet. Sabé drew her sword from its scabbard, and stepped into the ring. 

An attendant tied a red scarf around her arm, but she barely noticed, so focused was her attention on her opponent. He seemed to have come from the classical school of knights from old fairy tales and folklore—broad shoulders, long blond hair that somehow still managed to gleam in the low light, and a massive sword in his hands. 

Sabé took one look at him, and had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

The trumpet sounded.

Sabé darted out of the way of Mi-Annarc’s first wide swing, and sliced futilely at his upper arm, protected by chain mail. He was surprisingly fast, she realized, but once he was committed to an attack his sword was too heavy to let him stop. 

Once she’d determined that, her victory was only a matter of timing. Sabé danced out of Mi-Annarc’s reach, hardly bothering to parry his blade, waiting for him to exhaust himself. His strokes grew slower, sloppier; she ducked under his guard and held the edge of her sword just under his chin. 

He stuttered to a stop, clearly confused as to how everything could have gone so wrong so quickly. Hidden under her visor, Sabé’s lips quirked briefly into a smile. 

She held her sword steady until she heard the judges announce her victory, and slid it back into the sheathe at her waist. 

The rest of the day was the same. Sabé fought what seemed like a myriad of others—knights and freelancers, those sworn to a city or lord and those hoping to gain favour. 

As Sabé progressed, rising steadily through the rankings as she defeated fighter after fighter, she was finally able to admit to herself why she was here. She’d never been formally trained, but had taught herself the arts of the sword since she was a child with a single-minded devotion, all in the service of one task. To find acclaim and be granted a place in the elite honour guard of Queen Amidala of Naboo. 

Impossible, many would say. The four women who protected her were all of noble birth, all educated to the highest echelons of their skill, and all utterly without flaw, according to most. Even as she worked herself to the bone day after day, Sabé had always doubted a nobody like her could ever fight for the queen. 

And then, the tournament. A chance to fight, to prove her strength, to match herself against the queen’s champions and show everyone who Sabé of Theed was.

“Sabé of Theed, and Sir Rabé of Naboo!” the herald called, and Sabé remembered herself. The time had come, and one of the queen’s own knights stood in front of her. Rabé was surprisingly diminutive, for someone with so many a victory to her name, but she held her head high, and her red-and-gold armour in the full sunlight, carved with the sigil of the royal house of Naboo, made her seem as if she was glowing. 

Sabé stepped into the ring, now nearly beyond recognition from all the battles waged over it, drew her sword, and waited for the trumpet to sound. 

Then she fought.

Rabé fought like a wildcat, with vicious endless strength, and like a lightning strike, with endless speed and impossible agility. Her bare arms flexed with the weight of her two-handed sword, her hard muscles rippling like the surface of the ocean, and yet she moved as if it weighed no more than a feather.

Sabé could not land a hit on her—she could barely parry her blows. 

Step by step, Rabé forced Sabé backward, nearly to the edge of the ring, and Sabé grew desperate. This was one fight she could not, would not lose. She could see no way out, and yet her very bones ached with it. There was no other option she could conceive of other than her victory. 

Half a hair’s breadth from the ring’s edge, Sabé saw her chance. Rabé moved so quickly, with such ferocity there seemed to be no gap in her defense, no hidden exploit in her armour. And yet, there it was, the tiniest of openings as Rabé swung her sword down for one final blow. 

Almost without thinking, Sabé stepped past the blow and held her blade to the throat of Rabé of Naboo. 

The crowd’s deafening cheers turned immediately into stunned silence. Rabé herself looked shocked, and then for a moment cross, and then finally overjoyed. 

“Well-fought, Sabé of Theed!” she said, grinning widely at her. “I yield, of course.”

Sabé withdrew her sword in an instant. 

The herald, sounding slightly confused, said, “Match to Sabé of Theed.” 

“Thank you, Sir Rabé,” Sabé said, and bowed. Rabé returned it, still smiling as if her defeat was the best thing to have ever happened to her. Her reaction left Sabé feeling slightly wrong-footed, but she smiled back at Rabé nonetheless.

That smile dropped off her face the moment she heard, in the unmistakable royal accent, low and flat: “Sabé of Theed, we wish to commend you on your victory.” 

Sabé whipped around, and came face to face with the queen of Naboo. 

She was flanked by the remainder of her guard—blonde Sir Eirtaé at her right, curly-haired Sir Yané at her left and young Sir Saché beside her—as well as an entourage of attendants, yet they all faded in comparison to the gleaming star of Queen Amidala.

“Thank you, your Highness,” Sabé forced out, and bowed low. When she rose again, she thought she saw the slightest hint of a smile on the queen’s face, painted so perfectly in white and red, but dismissed it as a trick of the light. “You are too kind.”

The queen inclined her head. “We believe it your due, as such an accomplished warrior.”

Before Sabé could decide how exactly to respond to such a compliment, Rabé said, “As the glass shatters, our sister-sword emerges unscathed from the flame, and dance only the stars on her blade.”

It sounded like a poem, though not one Sabé had ever heard. 

“Quite beautifully expressed, Sir Rabé,” said the queen. And then, to Sabé, “Sabé of Theed, we fear we are remiss in overlooking a swordswoman such as yourself. Will you allow us to repair this oversight, and accept you into our service as a sworn knight?”

Sabé stared uncomprehending, as all her dreams came true, delivered by the one woman she had dedicated her entire life to. Then her heart overcame the stupidity of her brain and she said, “Your Highness, I would be truly honoured.”


End file.
